I Am
by RecordxPlayer
Summary: Greatness, even that obtained through madness, attracts followers. Why should the Joker be any different? Who am I, you ask? I'll tell you. I am...
1. A scientist

**Disclaimer: **_Obviously, I don't own Batman, or the Joker, or Gotham. I do however own my original character, for as much as she may be worth._

My mother used to tell me "You can't choose the one you love, only what you do with that love." She was always trying to give me good advice. Sometimes I'm glad she's dead. Oh, don't take it like that. It's just that I wouldn't want her to see the choices I've made to follow my love.

My name is Lily Gardener. Don't laugh, my mother thought it was cute. My father was too smart to argue with her. I am a renowned scientist, a mechanic, a genius with technology and chemistry. According to the high class gossips I supposedly gave up the scientist life. According to the gossips, I supposedly packed up my life and left Gotham, left the country all together. The gossips don't know shit.

My name is Lily Gardener. I am a wizard with chemical warfare. I can rig explosives out of thin air, alter a firearm to perform like a dream, control the traffic lights of all Gotham by hacking into the city mainframe.

My name is Lily Gardener. I am a scientist, a mechanic, a tinkerer. I am only half-way sane.

My name is Lily Gardener. I am in love with the Joker.


	2. A cat lover

As the Joker was breaking onto the crime scene, I was quickly and quietly leaving the science field. I packed up my belongings and bought another house on the other side of Gotham, away from the prying eyes of the high class wives of Gotham's biggest and brightest. I moved in with little fuss. My father had worked hard all his life to leave me well-off when he died. Of course, it was the hard work that killed him. Life is full of irony. I didn't even need it. Federal grants had funded my research, and I had worked on many a top secret government project. The big wigs in the white house paid well. I chose a modest two-story house in the middle of Gotham city. The first floor was made up of the kitchen, living room, and two other rooms which I quickly and efficiently had converted into a private work shop. Working for the government taught you who would keep their mouth closed…for a price.

I'll never forget the first time I met him. It was late night. Normally I rode my motorcycle, but since it was in the shop I had decided to walk home from the meeting with one of my suppliers. We had been finishing up the details of our deal, and my shipment of cyanide for my "privately funded chemical research" would be arriving in two days. I had noticed the gang of creeps hanging out in the alley I was about to pass but would have ignored them if I hadn't seen what one of them was tormenting.

"Oy!" I shouted, stopping in my tracks as my narrowed eyes focused on the man tying what looked to be a homemade firecracker to the cat's tail. The group quickly turned to me, because, I mean, who in their right mind starts shouting at a group of thugs late at night on Gotham's streets? I ignored the rest of them, saving my glare solely for the one still crouched by the poor feline.

"Release the cat or find yourself castrated, your choice," I growled out calmly. The man stood slowly, grinning, but his foot remained on the string connecting the cat to the explosive, effectively trapping it where it was.

"Am I supposed to be scared?" he asked, oblivious to the fact that my hand was slowly reaching into my pocket.

"Terrified," I ground out angrily. Did I mention that besides my obvious love of cats (because why else would I risk my life for a stray?), I also hate to be dismissed just because I'm a woman. Whether it be in brains or brawn, men are always discounting me just because I have female parts. He and his buddies laughed at that. _Ah, yes, laugh it up_, I thought, _why don't I just give you something to laugh about, eh?_ Quick as a flash, I whipped the spring-loaded weapon out of my pocket. Taking only a millisecond to aim, I pressed the lever that launched the three-pronged dagger straight into his crotch. He doubled over instantly, slowly falling to the grimy street, hands clawing at his privates. All three of the dagger's prongs were six inches long, and it had gone in straight to the hilt. I liked to build my babies to pack a punch. The rest of the gang had scattered as I stalked into the alley, prompting an eye roll from myself. Ignoring the groaning thug, I quickly untangled the cat from the string and brought her into my arms. I don't know what it is, but cats, even strays, seem to instantly trust me. I can't say I mind. I gave a parting kick to the asshole's face, a blow for my dignity I suppose, before going to exit the alley and continue home, cat in my arms. I was stopped short by the eerie laugh echoing off the passage's walls.

"Ho, ho, ho, he, he, he, ha, ha, ha," bounced back and forth, assaulting my ears. I turned slowly, one hand immediately going to clutch the other knife in my pocket. There he stood before me, the face I had seen flashed across a dozen news channels. The purple suit, the creepy clown makeup, the scarred grin. For no reason at all, I was smitten. Maybe it was the perpetual smile, or the fact that even under the makeup I could tell he was handsome, or perhaps it was the cloud of genius that seemed to radiate 

off of him. Whatever it was, I didn't retreat as he advanced. Within seconds he was before me, hand reaching out towards me. My mind screamed at me to move, to do something, anything, to defend myself, to slice and run, but I did nothing. And I was rewarded. Do you know what the big bad Joker did, upon our first meeting? He reached out and began to scratch the head of the cat in my arms, causing her to break out into purrs. I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.

"That was a neat little toy you had," he said conversationally, ignoring the recipient of my "toy," who was at that moment trying to crawl away.

"I had some free time and a bit of metal lying about," I replied with a proud smirk.

"You made that, eh? Well aren't you the clever little pussy cat," he responded with a loud laugh. Looking up at his tall frame made my five foot three seem like a child's body, yet I felt inexplicably safe. That probably should have been my first warning, but I suppose love is a sickness of the brain, just as craziness is.

"Well, my dear, would you like a ride home?" he asked. His voice was gentle, kind even. In the months to come, I would find myself treasuring the rare moments when his voice took this tone. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, overcome by my newfound fascination, even when following it meant utter stupidity. Throwing an arm around my shoulder he led me to the black sedan that sat at the alley's mouth. Like a true gentleman, he opened the passenger door to allow me access. I sat on the black leather carefully, and then looked up at him in question as he continued to stand at the opening, staring at me.

"What's your name, kitty cat?" he asked suddenly.

"Lily," I responded automatically, not even considering lying.

"Tut, tut," he murmured to himself quietly, "that won't do at all." He stood there, leaning against the door, a frown creasing his forehead and causing the white paint to flake slightly. I watched him as his bright eyes took me in, watching me sit there as I unconsciously stroked the cat in my arms.

"Aha!" came his sudden exclamation, "I've got it. I shall name you Tiger Lily!"

* * *

Hello. My name is Tiger Lily. I am a scientist, a mechanic, a lover of cats. I am a woman only half-sane. I am in love with the Joker.


	3. Furious

_A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait, you guys...I've been getting ready to go back to college and I move in this Saturday so things have been kind of hectic...I'm sorry this is so short but I wanted to get an update in before this weekend...hopefully I'll get another one in soon too but I just ask you all to be patient...let me know what you think of our lovely OFC, polite criticism and warm encouragement are always welcome and I swear we'll see everyone's favorite madman in the next update. _

_Disclaimer: obviously I don't own Batman, or the Joker, or Gotham...Tiger Lily is mine, though, for as much as she's worth..._

I woke the next morning to a loud purring in my ear. Had my sleep-fogged brain had the time to hope last night had merely been a dream, it would have been quickly dashed by the tabby sitting on my pillow. Even with the cat being there I could have perhaps rationalized that I had imagined the Joker part, if not for the playing card sticking out from beneath her paw. Scrawled across the top of the Joker card in black sharpie were the words **I'll see you soon.** Talk about something to wake up to.

I didn't really remember much of the night before beyond having (stupidly) gotten into his car. Concentrating hard, I eventually recalled drinking from a water bottle he had pressed in my hand while driving to my house. From there it was all foggy, like when you become so tired you're only functioning on auto-drive.

Finally stretching and getting out of bed I made my way down to the kitchen with the tabby at my heels, in search of something to wash out the bitter taste in my mouth that I had awoken with. That thought sent my body jolting into a sudden halt, quickly wiping all residual sleep from my brain. Bitter taste? Why that son of a bitch had drugged me! And me, a chemical whiz kid, hadn't even considered the idea. Like an innocent kitten I had just taken his offered drink without the slightest hesitation. He could have easily killed me. Hell, for all I knew he could have raped me while I was passed out. With a small shudder I continued my path to the kitchen. I gargled orange juice for about ten minutes, overpowering one taste with another while my mind ran over all the reasons he could have possibly drugged me.

As I dressed for the day, the realization that he had drugged me was slowly turning into a powerful case of righteous fury. _How _dare_ he. Did he know who he was messing with? I was the go-to gal for weapons of quiet, but complete, destruction. If I found out he had done _anything_ to me while I was passed out, I would make his life a living hell, for as short of a time he would remain alive in the face of my fury. Oh, yes. I'd make that bastard pay…_ With thoughts of revenge in the forefront of my mind, I retreated to my workshop, cat at my heels. Of course, I never took into consideration how my heart might betray me when I was once again face-to-face with the Joker…

* * *

Hello. My name is Lily Gardener. I am a woman capable of creating horrible weapons. I am only half-sane. I am in love with the Joker. And I am furious.

* * *


	4. The 'Belle of the Ball'

_A/N: special thanks to **MeReDy-ChAmPaIgn** for the reviews...they seriously inspired me to chug out another chapter for you all tonight...I tried to make it pretty long since I'm not sure when I'll get the next one up...see, reviews do help writers hinthintnudgenudge anyways...let me know what you guys think of my attempt at the Joker...I like him, but I want to know if you do too! any comments are welcome!! also a delayed thank you to **6xxxangelxxx9** for being my first ever review :) enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: yaddayadda no batman yadda yadda no joker yadda yadda no gotham yadda T.L. mine yadda_

I spent the day in my workshop, the loud metal music pumping from my stereo system drowning out my angry mutterings. When I was pissed off and working, I had a tendency to talk to myself. Used to scare away all the macho military officers when I worked on government projects, made them think I was crazy. Good times, good times. The morning and afternoon were spent forming a prototype of the metal portion of my latest chemical brain child. Now all I needed was that cyanide…

I'd taken only one break from my work, hours ago when the cat had decided it was hungry and had left its perch on one of the metal work tables to wind itself between my legs, making figure eights over and over again until I finally relented and led it to the kitchen. Now, with the prototype complete, I stood, stretching in an attempt to stave off the aches I knew were coming from being bent over my creation all day. A sound in the living room made me stop mid-stretch, hands high above my head as I paused, ears straining to catch the next sound. I heard it softly, a footstep in the hall, cautious and slow, someone making their way quietly through my home. I came down from my stretch soundlessly, sliding my body instinctually into a position of readiness, muscles tight, fingers tingling as if ready for action.

* * *

He stepped into the room confidently, like it were an everyday occurrence. Same purple suit, same greasy face paint, same Glasgow grin. Part of me wanted to freeze, like I had in the alley; to roll over and show my stomach in submission like a subservient canine. There was a moment of pause, like the calm before the storm, while I stood there fighting that feeling of passiveness; him just waiting for me to react. Internally I struggled, until, finally, one side won.

With a yowl of fury, I snatched a long knife from my work bench, flinging it at him. Screw the spring-loaded, I had enough anger to hurl that baby hard. As my luck would have it, though, he was a infuriatingly quick bugger. With a little hop he moved to the side, just barely avoiding being sliced by my impressive display of flying cutlery. In three large strides, he was right in front of me, hand around my throat, the tip of his own knife resting on my bottom lip. He wasn't squeezing to choke, just hard enough to keep me from moving. I wouldn't have guessed it from his bedraggled appearance, but he was strong, maybe stronger than some of the marines I had worked with. I glared back into his probing eyes, waiting for whatever was to come. Terror wasn't an emotion I came by easily, righteous indignation was so much easier for me to hold on to. Finally he spoke.

"You got a little fight in you, I like that," he giggled, releasing his hold on my neck and shoving his knife back into his pocket, "But that ain't no way to greet a friend, Tiger Lily." His grin was maddening, in more ways than one. I leaned back against the work table behind me, crossing my arms over my chest in a pose of annoyance.

"Yeah well, I don't know about you, but I don't usually go around drugging my friends," I shot back. Internally I flinched. _Oh yeah, lets piss off the crazy guy, that sounds like fun _my sarcastic inner voice taunted me. To my relief, he didn't gut me. Instead, his booming laugh echoed off the walls of my work room.

"Tsk tsk, is that was has your panties in a twist?" he teased, edging closer.

"Don't, for one second, think you had any effect on my panties!" I declared in outrage, ignoring the creeping feeling in my stomach. There was no way I would acknowledge that his nearness had any impact on me.

"Oh, oh," he chortled, as if I were the most amusing thing on earth. He stepped closer, and with my back against the table I had nowhere to retreat. His lips twitched into a small smile as he ran one 

gloved finger down the side of my face. I struggled not to move, not to react. With a flash of a grin, he turned and made his way out of the room and towards the kitchen.

"Do you have anything to drink?" he called over his shoulder. I stood there for a moment longer, my mind racing. _The Joker is in my house. My heart skips a beat every time I see him, stops completely when he touches me._ I let out a small groan. Why couldn't my life be normal? I followed him to the kitchen.

* * *

It was an odd scene. I sat across from _THE JOKER_ at my kitchen table, sodas in front of each of us and a plate of cookies in the middle of the table that I had baked yesterday. You'd think being a chemist I'd be a good cook. Chemistry…cooking…same thing right? Wrong. I was an awful chef. If this were an equation it would be: me + cooking a great load of suck. I was ok at baking though. I was fidgeting slightly but I couldn't help it. He was just sitting there, in all his purple and face paint, looking around the room in curiosity, all the world as if he were just a normal visitor in my house.

"So, um," I cleared my throat awkwardly, "what were you doing in that alley last night?" It hadn't been the question I wanted to ask, but it would do. He gave me a grin worthy of the Cheshire cat.

"Well, ya see," he drawled, "I did this bank job, ya know? Easy peesy, but I kind of, maybe, killed off all my goons in the process, so I figure, 'hey, what better place to find criminals willing to follow a madman than the streets of Gotham'."

"So….you were trolling for followers?" I clarified, kind of stunned. He nodded, apparently pleased with my translation.

"I'm glad you showed up though. I was actually considering hiring those guys on, ya know? But who wants followers her run from girlie?" he laughed. Anger coursed through my veins.

"Are you saying they shouldn't of been afraid of me?" I ground out through gritted teeth. If he noticed my resentment, he didn't show it.

"Oh, no, pretty kitty," he chortled again, "what I meant is that they should have been on their knees begging for mercy as soon as they saw that feral glint in your eye, not running like cowards only after you turned their leader into a Roman choir boy." I couldn't help but smile at that, and it also allowed me to relax enough to ask the question I had really wanted to ask.

"What do you want from me?" I said it soft enough to almost be considered a whisper. I couldn't help but be terrified of what his answer would be.

"Ha ha ha, I knew you would ask eventually," he chuckled, "Well, I took a little trip to my local library…" he interrupted himself with a fit of giggles, probably at the look of complete disbelief on my face. "ho ho, he, ha, ahem, anyways…and did a bit of research on the pretty little stray I picked up off the street," he waggled his eyebrows at me and I rolled my eyes before motioning him to continue. He grinned, "I found out my itty bitty kitty was really royalty in the scientific community. A real 'Belle of the ball' you might say…" I frowned at his choice of words. Had the son of a bitch actually found a document with my middle name on it? I never used my middle name…he shouldn't have been able to find it anywhere…unless maybe I was just being paranoid? Maybe it was just a lucky choice of expression…the look of pure glee on his face convinced me I was wrong. He let out a barking laugh when he knew his phrase had hit home. For a madman, the Joker was seriously connected.

* * *

Hello. My name is Lily Belle Gardener. I am a scientist. I am seriously concerned that my life just took a turn into crazy town… I am not normal.

* * *


	5. Author's Note

I know you guys probably got to this thinking there would be another chapter…I am so so so so so sorry to disappoint you. I've been really busy between work/school/internship that I've had almost no time for writing, which sucks. I really do plan to update soon, I'm just having a bit of a writer's block and I need your help. I want to move on with my story, and I have a lot of ideas that are for post-TDK. I'm thinking of doing only one or two more chapters based within The Dark Knight, just to give you background on the Joker and Lily's beginning, and how their relationship is, and then skipping to after The Dark Knight ends, with the Joker in Arkham. Do you think that'll be alright? I want to know if you think it won't be too…jolty…if I do it that way. I just really want to get beyond TDK because I have no desire to write scenes that someone else has already come up with. Let me know what you think and I swear I should have another update before the month is over!


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